Desperate Times
by LouBlue
Summary: This fic is set just after the episode 'The Other Side'. Monroe thinks he might be able to help his mystery customer overcome his obsession problem, but will the solution be worse than the disease? A fic for lovers of Monroe and Captain Renard (not slash).
1. Chapter 1

**A/N****: Okay, so this is my first attempt at a Grimm story, so go easy on me, folks. :D **

**I started watching Grimm last year (on line) but ended up not keeping up with it and then my interest was recently piqued when I saw Renard and Juliette getting a bit heated. I think SR is gorgeous, because, well, I'm not blind and I'm thrilled he's being featured more in the show. Plus, I love the dark, twisty guys with obsessive love stories – they're my faves. :D I know things are going to end badly between Renard and Juliette and I guess she's going to go back to Nick (who's very cute and sweet, but a little too vanilla for my tastes ;) ), so I'm going to take what I can get, while I can get it. **

**Basically the last couple of weeks has been me catching up on all the episodes so I could get into the R/J stuff. So, I'm on Grimm overload. LOL I've only just watched 'The Other Side' episode which is my fave so far. **

**A guy watching you shower without you knowing it... creepy. **

**Sasha Roiz doing it and you not knowing it... a lost opportunity I say. ;) **

**Anyways, I've had three stories, well, four really, but we'll stick with three for now, pop into my head about what I think are the most chemistry laden characters. **

**I'm loving the Nick/Monroe/Hank dynamic and have two short stories in my head for them which are a bit of fun. They play around a bit with the comedy aspect on the show and I get this is meant to be a drama fantasy, but damn, Monroe is just too fantastic a character not to have a little fun with. If there is interest in this little ficlet, I'll probably post those two other stories as well. But I'm going with this one first and it stars Renard and Monroe because again, I was intrigued by their chemistry in the scenes they shared together in the last episode I watched. I don't know what is going to happen next (don't tell me, I want to be surprised :D ) but this is kind of an extension of that episode where Renard goes to Monroe for a cure. **

**And, if by chance, there are any readers of my Avengers fic reading this, don't fret, I haven't given up on the Magnificent Octopus, I just needed to get these characters out of my head to clear a little room. It's kinda crowded up there at the minute, standing room only. **

**Okay, enough from me, let's see what you make of this...**

**Desperate Times**

**Chapter One**

"Thank you for doing this."

The elevator doors closed as Monroe looked over at the man standing beside him at the sound his gruff words. It wasn't often he didn't have to look down to address someone. At 6 '3, Monroe was a tall guy, but the man standing next to him was probably a good inch taller. The man was staring at the elevator doors ahead of them, his jaw hardened in grim determination to see this through. Monroe gave a lop-sided smile. "No problem, man, I'm happy to help. I know you're in a bind."

The man with the dark hair just starting to pepper with grey, glanced over at him. "Are you sure this person can help me?"

"No," said Monroe honestly, "but she's the best chance you've got."

The man looked away and nodded slowly, retreating back into silence as the elevator took them to their destination.

"Lorelai is an old friend of mine," offered up Monroe. "She's an expert in these of spells. It's kind of a family business."

"She's a witch, some kind of hexenbiest?"

It was interesting to Monroe that the concept didn't seem to faze the other man. "Not exactly. Lorelai is a Soldul-Deținător."

The man frowned, looking at him in vague surprise. "A Balance-Keeper, here in Portland?"

"Yeah, well, she doesn't spread it around. That's how the whole balance thing works. They work behind the scenes to keep everything in check."

"Pentru a găsi calea, chiar," he murmured, almost to himself.

Monroe's eyebrows shot up. "Okay, so, you know their motto."

"As do you," responded the man coolly. "To find the even path."

Monroe gave a little nod of his head. "Yeah, that's right." He couldn't help but stare. "Your Romanian is pretty good."

"It's serviceable," said the man dismissively. "I thought that the Soldurl had all but died out."

"There are a few family lines still out there. Lorelai is the last of hers."

"If memory serves, they draw their powers from the energy of the dead. They usually have a fantomă attached to them to allow access to the power they need to maintain balance in this world."

Monroe nodded again. "Yup, a ghost and for Lorelai, that'd be her mom, Leala." He wrinkled his nose. "She's a real pistol." Monroe grimaced. "Leala died when Lorelai was eight and they've been working together ever since."

The man's tawny eyes were on him. "You've met the fantomă?"

"Yeah, sometimes Leala body jacks Lorelai to have a little fun. She misses her corporal form and let me tell you, that girl knows how to party and then some. I could tell you some stories but I'm trying to repress a lot of that stuff these days. "

The man frowned. "Is she unstable?"

"In every sense of the word," confirmed Monroe without hesitation.

"Does Lorelai have control over her mother?" The man was looking at him intently. "This situation is bad enough, I don't want any unstable spells added into the mix."

"Lorelai is the most competent Soldul-Deținător I know."

"How many do you know?"

Monroe pursed his lips. "Technically, just the one."

"That's not exactly a ringing endorsement."

"Hey, I wouldn't be doing this if I thought you had other options."

The man looked away as the elevator doors opened. "I know."

The two of them stepped out into the corridor. "Lorelai's apartment is the one at the end," Monroe directed him. "I'll introduce you." He stopped walking suddenly.

The man stopped as well and looked back at him. "What?"

"I don't know your name."

The man didn't miss a beat. "John Smith."

Monroe smiled. "Ah, you're going old school. You can't beat the classics."

"Can we hurry this up?" asked John impatiently.

"Got somewhere to be?" Monroe kept walking. "Don't tell me, you're planning on driving by your lady love's house a few hundred times before bed time?"

John didn't answer, just kept walking, muscle ticking in his cheek.

Monroe easily kept up, the advantage of excessively long legs. "Hit a nerve, huh? How bad is it getting? Drive bys, ringing and hanging up, pictures, lurking in her bushes."

John sent him a look and quickly looked away.

"Ah man," said Monroe sympathetically, "there's lurkage already, that's not a good sign."

"I know that," he said sharply. "Why do you think I want this monkey off my back so badly?"

They were at the door and Monroe sighed. "I know, dude, that's why I brought you here." He went to knock on the door and then hesitated. Shooting a curious look the other man's way, Monroe couldn't help himself. "So, just to be clear, and this is in no way a judgement on my behalf, but are we talking an actual monkey here, or a figurative one that we're dealing with?"

John looked torn between annoyance and frustration. "It's a woman," he snapped.

"A woman monkey?" asked Monroe, nodding understandingly.

"No," John bit out, "a woman, woman. A woman with long auburn hair and-". He stopped abruptly, and closed his eyes, obviously finding conjuring up a mental image of the object of his desire difficult to deal with.

"Orang-utans have long red hair," pointed out Monroe.

The man looked like he was barely hanging onto his self-control. "It's. Not. A. Monkey," he ground out from behind clenched teeth.

Monroe held up his hands in a pacifying fashion. "Dude, chill, like I said, no judgement here. It's a woman, Mazel Tov, good for you."

"And an orang-utan isn't a monkey, it's an ape," continued on tersely.

"Oh, I didn't know that." Monroe scratched his chest absently. "I don't like watching Animal Planet, it makes me hungry."

"Of course it does, you're a Blutbad."

"I'm on the wagon, man," protested Monroe. "I've been vegan for years."

John's lips were thinned into an angry line, obviously not interested. "Can we get this over and done with, please?"

"Sure, sure," said Monroe easily. "I need to be getting back to the shop anyway. I'm on my lunch hour."

"So am I."

"What do you do?" asked Monroe brightly. The other man just stared at him with those disconcerting eyes, clearly not going to answer. "Oh, okay," said Monroe hastily, "I get it, you're not big on the sharing. That's cool." He lifted his hand to knock on the door but his first knock had the door swinging open of its own accord. Monroe felt the man tense beside him and he felt a little on edge himself. "Well, that's not a good sign." His hackles rose of their own accord as he stepped into the apartment, preparing himself for whatever this might be...

**A/N****: So what did you think, guys? Intrigued, bored, want more, read enough? Let me know. My Grimm lore is a bit shaky, but I'm doing my best. :) **


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N****: A big thank you to Annie and ontheledge for taking the time to comment. :D I really appreciate it. I'm glad I'm not the only one who think R/J are hot together. ;) And I'm glad Monroe is ringing true for you ontheledge. He really is a gorgeous character that I'm having fun with. **

**This chapter is all Renard now, so it's not as light-hearted and more angsty. I kind of like the dynamic of having the darkest guy on the show and the most zen one in scenes together. Something about that appeals to me. :D **

**I'm thinking there will be one more chapter with the possibility of there being a sequel to this story, if there is any interest. Plus, I'm probably going to post another short story I have about Hank/Nick/Monroe soon. That one should be fun. ;) **

**Okay, thanks for reading as always. I hope you enjoy it. **

**Chapter Two**

Renard's hand went to the gun tucked in the back of his pants as he followed the gangly Blutbad into the Soldul-Deținător's apartment. An unlocked door in this woman's profession wasn't a good sign. He glanced around the tastefully decorated apartment and noted how clothes were strewn over just about every available flat surface. His hand tightened on his gun as the Blutbad transformed ahead of him. There was a sound off to their left, a scrapping of a chair and Monroe emitted a low growl. Suddenly a woman with long, dark hair appeared in the doorway, a bottle of tequila in her hand. She was wearing a short, tight-fitting dress which left little to the imagination. She looked like she'd just come home from a hard night of partying. Her face lit up at seeing Monroe.

"Roe-Roe!" she exclaimed in delight and closed the small distance between them, throwing herself at him.

Monroe immediately transformed back, catching the small woman as she wrapped her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck. Renard noticed she managed to not let go of the tequila bottle in the process. He watched as she planted a big kiss on Monroe and took his hand off his gun.

Monroe looked uncomfortable as he didn't seem to know what to do with his hands. "Oh hey," he said, weakly smiling after such an enthusiastic greeting, "Leala is in the house. That's awesome." Monroe's voice suggested it was anything but.

Renard's lips tightened in frustration. Clearly Lorelai's mother currently inhabited her daughter's body and that wasn't of any use to him. He needed the Soldul-Deținător, not the Fantoma. He moved his shoulders restlessly, his obsession with Juliette making him tense all the time these days. Just thinking her name had the hunger in the pit of his stomach stirring and a sweat break out along the top of his lip. It'd been too long since he'd seen her last. He'd started measuring his days in units of Juliette. How long since he'd seen her, talked to her. Renard could feel her overtaking him more every moment he drew breath into his lungs.

Leala snuggled in closer to Monroe, still with her legs wrapped around his waist. "Did you miss me?" she drawled in a very Southern accent.

"Oh, sure, yeah," said Monroe unevenly. He fixed a forced smile on his face. "You're looking well."

Leala jumped down off him and preened a little. She rubbed her hands over her hips and gave a sultry smile. "Lorelai may be as boring as bat shit, but she's got one tight little ass." Leala slapped that backside for good effect.

"Speaking of Lorelai," said Monroe brightly, "do you think she's going to be putting in an appearance any time soon?"

Leala arched an eyebrow. "Now why would you want that little wallflower when you can have me?" she purred, walking up to Monroe and dragging a finger up and down his chest.

Monroe had the expression of a cornered animal on his face but was trying not to show it. "I was hoping to do some business with her. I mean, we both were."

Leala's dark gaze flicked over to where Renard was standing off to one side. She looked him over and seemed to like what she saw. Her attention turned to him as she sauntered over to him. "Well, hello there, tall, dark and handsome." She came to stand directly in front of him, tilting her head right back so she could look him in the eye. "I'm happy to do some business with the both y'all."

"We need Lorelai in a professional capacity," said Monroe hastily.

Leala's eyes were still on Renard as a devilish smile touched her lips. "Oh, I can be very professional, trust me."

Renard resisted the urge to yell in the woman's face. He just wanted to get Adalind's spell out of his system, not deal with some oversexed ghost inhabiting her daughter's body. Renard forced himself to keep his voice calm. "So, there is no ETA on Lorelai then?"

Leala gave an offended sniff and stepped back. "You can lead a horse to water, but apparently you can't make him ride you."

That play on words made little to no sense to Renard, but he wasn't going to labour the point. In this state, the woman was no use to him.

Leala glanced at the clock on the wall. "My times almost up. The jailer gave me twenty-four hours and she's real pernickety about time." She rolled her eyes. "Another annoying trait. I swear, that girl is so tightly wound up she could chew through glass and not bat an eye." She sniffed. "I blame myself. I never should have married her Daddy. The English are so uptight."

"Lorelai's father was an English professor," offered up Monroe. "He was quite the go to guy on all things Wessen."

Renard stuck his hand into his coat pocket, not caring. His hand immediately felt for the earring he'd secreted away there. It was Juliette's. He'd taken it when he'd walked into her bedroom to watch her shower and stolen it on impulse. There had been something so compelling about taking an item which had been against Juliette's skin. Renard ran his fingers over the little piece of jewellery, feeling it calm him. Touching it was by extension touching her and it was all he could think about these days. What would she feel like to touch, the smell of her in his nostrils and the taste of her in his mouth. His heart started to thump erratically in his chest and his breathing roughened slightly. The earring bit into his flesh as he gripped it so tightly he almost drew blood. Sweat ran down his back and dampened his shirt and Renard was glad he'd opted to keep his coat on, so no one could see. It'd been too long since he'd seen Juliette and like an addict he was jonesing for his next fix. They were still talking and Renard just wanted to scream.

"Yeah, because all things Wessen are so thrilling," said Leala sarcastically. "Lorelai threw to her daddy's side. All she wants to do is read and study. I keep telling her, there are more things in life and she should use this hot little bod before she loses it. But will she listen, no, of course not. I swear, I can't believe that child came out of my body." An impish smile played around Leala's lips. "That's why I've gotta have fun for the both of us when I get the chance." Her face clouded over. "But the little bitch screwed me over this time. She put some kind of sealing spell on her body."

"Sealing spell?" asked Monroe.

Leala made a frustrated noise. "Yeah, every time I got some pretty young fella to touch me, everything kinda went limp on him. That sneaky little bitch hexed me up real good so I couldn't have any fun at all. I tell you, I was doing her a favour. That girl of mine hasn't been laid in so long, things are going to start drying up and-." Leala stopped talking abruptly, her face screwing up. "I'm talkin'!" she shouted. "You're bein' rude!" Her accent was especially thick now, but then Leala was throwing her head back and a white cloud flew out of her mouth. She swayed a little and Monroe stepped forward to grab her arm to steady her.

She looked up at him, blinking dazedly. "Oh, Monroe, hello." Suddenly her voice was an English cultured one and it was with relief Renard realised they had Lorelai back.

Monroe looked more relaxed now and his smile was genuine. "Hey, Lorelai, it's good to see you."

Lorelai straightened up and took a step back, taking in the state of her apartment and then down at her scantily clad body. She looked back at them, a worried look etching her attractive features. "Tell me I didn't have sex with either of you?"

"No," said Monroe hastily, "we just got here."

She looked relieved. "Good, the spell held. I was a bit worried." Lorelai pulled a face, not addressing them now. "The deal was, Mother, that you could have my body for twenty-four hours. I had a perfect right to cast that spell. I'm not waking up with a tattoo of 'Open all Hours' tattooed on my ass because you have no sense of self-control." Her lips thinned as her mother obviously had something to say about that. "I'm not discussing this with you now, we've got company." Lorelai smiled pleasantly at them. "I'm so sorry. My mother can be somewhat of a handful."

"I know," said Monroe without hesitation.

Lorelai looked over at Renard. "Is this a friendly visit or professional?"

Monroe inclined his head towards Renard. "My friend here needs some help with an obsession spell."

Lorelai's intent gaze was on him as her dark eyes looked him over. "So I see," she murmured. "Looks like a bad one."

Renard's jaw hardened. He didn't like the feeling of being so easily read. "Monroe said you can help me."

"I said might be able to help," interjected Monroe quickly. "This is out of my depth but I thought you might have some insight."

Lorelai gave Renard a last piercing look and nodded. "I'll do my best but you'll have to give me a moment to slip into something less-," she looked down at her outfit, "whorish," she finished off. Lorelai wiggled a little and pulled a face. "And put on underwear, it seems." She rolled her eyes. "Thank goodness being a slut apparently skips a generation." Her tone became annoyed. "I'm not being disrespectful mother," she snapped. "You're a carnival ride, it's just a fact." Lorelai smiled sweetly at them both. "If you'll excuse me for just a moment, gentlemen. Please, make yourselves at home." She swept up her clothes off the sofa as she went by and cleared them a space.

Monroe went and sat down, but not before pulling out a pair of pink, lace panties from between the cushions. He looked uncomfortable and quickly shoved them into a nearby vase. He looked up at Renard. "Take a seat, man, you're making the place look untidy."

Renard hesitated briefly but then took a seat next to the other man. He put his hands on his knees and stared ahead, jaw set tensely. Renard couldn't help but wonder what Juliette was doing right then. His face clouded over as he wondered if she was with Nick. She and Nick still lived together, so it wasn't impossible, even if it was the middle of the day. In his mind's eye he imagined the Grimm touching her, kissing her. Unnoticed, his hands balled into fist as a pure, hot streak of jealousy ran through his entire body at the thought of anyone but him touching Juliette. Jealousy over a woman was something he'd never endured before and this unexpected emotion felt like a raging beast inside his chest, looking to claw its way out. The blood left his knuckles, fists tightening even more as he imagined Juliette kissing Nick back. The rage almost overcoming him at that thought. He wanted Nick dead in that moment. Renard wanted to tear him apart with his bare hands for even looking at her.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

Renard snapped out of his dark and painful fantasy to see a concerned looking Monroe staring at him. Monroe glanced down at the white-knuckled fists Renard was making. "Or not," he said hastily.

Renard forced himself to unclench his hands and push back on his jealousy and rage. He knew where Nick was, he was out on a call with Hank, he couldn't be with Juliette. The thought calmed Renard a little and he drew in an uneven breath. "I just want this over with."

"Yeah, well, these things usually aren't so easy to get over. You know, not without some kind of body count anyway."

Renard blew out an annoyed breath, thinking of Adalind. If there was going to be a body count, he wanted her to be the first one.

Lorelai walked back into the room looking a lot more casual in jeans and white blouse. She smiled. "Okay, let's see what we have here." Walking over to a drawer, she pulled it open and started rooting around in it. "We need to see how deep this spell has gone." Lorelai gave up looking and closed the drawer. "I'm out of matches." She smiled again. "Monroe, do you mind going to the shop on the corner and grabbing me some matches?"

Monroe quickly stood up. "No, of course not. I'll be right back."

"Thank you."

Monroe hurried off and now it was just the Soldul-Deținător and him. Renard watched Lorelai take a seat on the coffee table in front of him and give him a considered look. "Now that we're alone, I think it's time we had a little talk, don't you?"

Renard held her gaze steadily. "About what?"

"About how a half-breed Royal and hexenbiest has ended up in this mess."

Renard's expression didn't change. "You know me?" He was sizing her up, evaluating what kind of threat she might present to him.

Lorelai half-smiled. "I don't, but they do."

He arched an eyebrow expectantly.

Lorelai explained herself. "Seems like you've put a few people in the spirit world lately and there is one thing you should know about the dead, they do love to talk." She glanced to the side. "Yes, mother, I'm getting to that, stop interrupting."

Renard didn't let his expression register any concern. "And what are they saying exactly?"

"That you're not to be trusted."

Renard sat up and leaned forward, so that they were face to face. "And what do you say?"

Lorelai was looking at him unblinkingly. "I'm a Soldul-Deținător, I'm all about the balance in this world and looking at you, I can see the balance has been shifted. You're like a rock in a stream, events are surging around you and the flow is being interrupted. That's not a good a thing."

"I'm a problem for you to solve," he interpreted. Renard leaned in closer to her. "So solve me," he demanded. "I need out of this obsession. I need the balance in my life restored." Renard had to get Juliette out of his head. It was like she'd crawled under his skin and wound her way into his soul. He had to be free of her. Even as he thought those things though, a part of him rebelled. Life without Juliette seemed incomprehensible to him now. It hurt to even think about her being taken from him. Renard knew that was the obsession talking because she wasn't even his to start with, but that didn't stop the way he felt. Common sense had no place in this kind of raw emotion.

"At any cost?"

"Yes," Renard ground out, forcing himself to ignore the pain it caused him.

Lorelai sat back and gave him a considered look, clearly seeing his conflict. "We'll see," she murmured, "we'll see."


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N****: Hey guys, thanks for coming back for the next chapter. :D Hope I make it worth your while. **

**In typical Aunty Lou fashion, this story is now going to be longer than the two chapters I originally planned. We've got one more chapter coming up and now I'm full of ideas for the sequel, so we'll see how that plays out. **

**I'm actually quite intrigued by potential of the Monroe dynamic in the Nick/Juilette/Renard love triangle. I think it'd be really interesting to play around with. I still haven't watched the last two episodes of the first half of season two (I'm pacing out myself in that regards, it's a long time until Feb when the new eps start . ). **

**Anyway, thank you again to Anni, D Squirrel and the guests who reviewed the last chapter. Much appreciated. I'm trying to get a feel for what my audience (that's you guys ;) ) might be wanting from a story like this, so all feedback is appreciated and taken under advisement. **

**Okay, let's get down to it...**

**Chapter Three**

Renard watched Lorelai as she sat across from him, head cocked to one side as she obviously was listening to someone talking to her. His jaw hardened, hoping all of this was going to be worth it in the end.

Lorelai uncocked her head and gave him an interested look. "Someone's been a busy boy."

Renard forced a cold smile to his lips. "It's not polite to talk behind people's back."

"And you're all about being polite," noted Lorelai wryly. "A woman named Catherine had a lot to say about you, Captain."

Renard didn't register any emotion. "I can only imagine."

"Her death was quite untimely."

"And something I had nothing to do with," he noted. "I certainly hope Catherine didn't forget to mention that."

"I rather think Catherine has a different take on the situation," observed Lorelai. "If you hadn't involved her daughter in ensnaring the Grimm, then his mother wouldn't have become involved."

Renard wasn't able to hide his surprise at that titbit of information. "Nick's mother killed Catherine?" He scowled. "I thought she was dead."

"Not so much," said Lorelai, leaning back on her hands on the coffee table and crossing her legs. "She's more in the business of handing out death, it seems."

"Does Nick know?" he asked sharply and then answered his own question. "Of course he must know." Renard sat back in his chair, processing the information. "The question is, for how long?"

Lorelai tapped his knee with her foot and shook her head. "That's a problem for another day. Right now, you've got bigger fish to fry."

Renard knew she was right. "Did Catherine tell you what spell Adalind used on Juliette?"

"Yes."

"Then you can undo it."

"It's already been undone," Lorelai reminded him. "The prince with the pure heart woke the sleeping beauty." She pursed her lips. "Now, what we need is a cure for the cure." Lorelai rolled her eyes. "Yes, mother, I'm getting to the point, stop with the back seat driving. Just go back to what you do best on the back seat of a car." She pulled a face. "Mother, that's disgusting. Yes, I know he can't hear you, but I can, so just stop with the potty mouth and be of some actual use to me for a change." Lorelai gave Renard a long-suffering look. "I could have had my great-uncle Finbar as my Fantoma, but no, Dad wanted me to include my mother in my life." She snorted. "Big mistake." Her frown deepened. "Well, it was, Mother. We're as compatible as chalk and some kind of slutty cheese."

Renard made an annoyed noise. "Can we get back to my problem now? What is your mother talking about, what is your point?"

"My point is that Adalind played you all." She straightened up and uncrossed her legs. "She knew that you'd do anything to retain control of the Grimm and that would mean saving his girlfriend. She also knew you'd go to her mother to find a counter-spell and Adalind took a calculated gamble with which one her mother would give you. Adalind knew what the after-effects of that cure would be. Really, she was in a win/win situation. She's tortured both you and the Grimm. If you'd opted to let Juliette stay in her coma, the Grimm would have been in a living hell, watching his beloved waste away in front of his eyes. You'd lose control of him and well, all your aspirations for ultimate power would be dead in the water." Lorelai absently played with a lock of her long, dark hair. "But, if, as she suspected you would, went to cure Juliette, she knew the fall out was going to have all kinds of pay offs for her. The Grimm still doesn't get his true love back and you're being tortured by this obsessive need to possess something you can never really have." She lifted a shoulder. "It's kind of a genius move all round," said Lorelai, sounding like she was almost admiring of the other woman. "You know, in a 'boil your bunny' kinda way."

"You approve?" he ground out in annoyance.

"It's more that I can appreciate the artistry in her moves." She gave a dry laugh. "And the irony, of course." She tilted her head and regarded him steadily. "You do realise the irony of this situation, I hope. You sort to control the situation with the Grimm using Juliette, and now Juliette is controlling you." She waved a finger at him. "This is where you insert the ironic laugh."

Renard scowled. "Forgive me for not being in a laughing mood," he grunted.

"I can see why you'd be feeling 'glass half empty' right about now," said Lorelai sympathetically.

"Just tell me if you can help me," Renard growled.

"It depends on how far this spell has gotten into your system." She eyed him carefully. "You've kissed her?"

"Yes," he said tersely, "that's how I woke Juliette." The memory of the soft touch of her lips against his flashed back to him. He'd felt something leave his body and enter hers in that split second. At the time, Renard had assumed it was just the cure, but now he was beginning to suspect he'd delivered his soul into her body and he'd never feel whole again until he could claim Juliette as his own. His eyelids drooped a little as he imagined doing just that. The way her softness would press up against his. The way it'd feel to take her in his arms and fit her against every hard angle of his body. The blood heated in his veins and he was only pulled out of his fantasy by the sound of clicking fingers.

Lorelai was giving him a wary look and clicking her fingers at him. "Hey, you, a little focus, if it's not too much of a bother."

"Sorry," he said gruffly, moving uncomfortably in his seat.

"I didn't mean the initial kiss," Lorelai clarified. "I meant one where Juliette was conscious."

Renard looked away. "No."

"Okay, that's something. Have you been alone with her?"

"I drove her home a couple of nights ago."

"How did that go?"

"I let her get out of the car," he offered up. "That's something, isn't it?"

Lorelai wrinkled her nose. "That you didn't maul her in your car, I guess."

Renard closed his eyes and leant his head back against the sofa. "This is impossible."

"Trying to get my mother to act like a lady is impossible," Lorelai disagreed with him. "This is at least has a chance of being doable. Is there anything else I should know?"

"Like what?"

"Have you acted on any of these impulses yet?"

Renard grimaced.

"Okay," sighed Lorelai, "let's hear it."

"I went into her house and watched her in the shower," he admitted reluctantly.

"I'm assuming Juliette didn't see you?"

"Obviously not."

"Did you take anything?"

"What makes you think I took something?" Renard asked a little defensively.

"Because this isn't my first rodeo," she said dryly. "You can't be near Juliette and this obsession is only getting stronger, so, taking something of hers is kind of an obvious step."

"An earring," he said begrudgingly.

"At least it wasn't underwear," said Lorelai brightly. "That's a bonus."

"Is it?" asked Renard, not convinced.

"I once had a guy under one of these spells that he took the woman's favourite cat," said Lorelai conversationally. "He'd carry it around everywhere he went."

"That'd be a bit hard to explain," noted Renard.

"More than you know. The cat had been dead for a year. He dug it up out of her back garden."

"Fantastic," said Renard sarcastically. "At least I know what I've got to look forward to."

"Yeah, that one got real nasty real quick," she reminisced. "Dead cat stink is impossible to get out of your sofa, take it from me."

Renard cast a ginger look at the sofa he was sitting on.

"I had to get a new one. Don't worry."

"If all I had to worry about was a dead cat sofa, then I wouldn't," he said tightly. "You're the Balance-Keeper, you have to restore balance to this whole situation."

"Everything is out of whack," she agreed readily. "A half-breed Hexenbiest of royal blood in a love triangle with a Grimm. That's a first for the history books." Lorelai leaned in towards him. "But just a heads up here, Captain, restoring balance doesn't always mean that things go back to how they were," she warned him. "What Adalind has done has irrevocably affected the balance between the three of you. That can't be undone. A new balance must be sort."

"Did I detect a hint of impending doom in the tone of that last statement?" Renard asked flatly.

She gave a little shrug. "Let's just say that when it comes to triangles, someone always loses out and in this particular scenario, the potential for all three of you losing, is pretty high."

"I hope I'm not being charged extra for this pep talk," said Renard darkly.

"The cost of this whole thing has yet to be decided," Lorelai noted, "and it remains to be seen who will pay the greatest price."

**oooOOOOooo**

Monroe fumbled for his cell phone as it rang while he was paying for the matches. A familiar name came up on the phone scream. "Oh hey, Nick," he said, smiling at the shop owner and taking his change. "What's up?"

"I came looking for you at the Spice Shop, but you weren't there."

"Yeah, I'm on a house call, kinda." Monroe walked out of the shop. "I'm helping out a friend."

"Anyone I know?"

"No, I don't think so."

"What's his name?"

Monroe thought of the obviously fake name the man had given him. "I don't know."

"So, you don't know the name of your friend, am I hearing that right?"

"Pretty much." Monroe started to walk down the street back to Lorelai's apartment.

"You don't set a really high bar for you friendships, do you?" noted Nick dryly.

"Said the Grimm to the Wessen," Monroe shot back.

"Point taken."

Monroe could hear Nick was sounding a little flat. "Okay, what's up? Got a problem which needs the old Monroe Magic?"

"No, not really, I was just-." Nick trailed off and then started again. "Hank is following up a lead on a new case the Captain just put us on and I was doing a different lead but it was a dead end. I was in the neighbourhood, so I thought I'd drop in and say hi."

Monroe's eyebrow shot up as he walked along. "Are we doing that now? Dropping by to say hi?"

"I guess I was just looking to vent," admitted Nick.

"Things aren't going well with Juliette still?" asked Monroe sympathetically.

"I'm a complete stranger to her," said Nick in distress. "And what's worse, when she looks at me now, she's either looking guilty or like she's pitying me."

Monroe pulled a face. "Ouch. That's not what you want to see in your girlfriend's face."

"I wanted to marry this woman and now we're like these awkward flat mates around one another."

"I don't know what to tell you, buddy," Monroe sighed as he walked into Lorelai's building. "It's a tough one."

"I need to get my hands on Adalind," ground out Nick.

"If memory serves, you getting your hands on her was what started all of this," noted Monroe. He stepped into the elevator. "My experiences of a woman scorned are to put as much distance as you can between them and you." He pressed the button as the doors slid shut. "Or sleep with an axe under your pillow. It's lumpy, but you don't wake up dead, either."

Nick sighed heavily. "Monroe, what am I going to do?"

"Look, you love Juliette, right?"

"Of course I do," said Nick a little snippily.

"Well, love is patient, isn't it?"

"I just don't know how much longer I can do this for," came the uneven reply. "I feel so helpless."

"Okay, how about this then? You got Juliette to fall in love with you once, just do it again."

"You make that sound simple," Nick complained.

"Hey, you already know you're her type," Monroe encouraged him. "Plus, you know all the things she likes. You've got a huge head start on this thing. Just woo her."

"Woo her?"

"Yes, woo."

"I guess that could work," said Nick slowly. "Only-"

"Only what?"

"I don't know if this is all in my head or-"

"Nick, just spit it out."

"It's like Juliette isn't the same. I mean, she is, but she isn't." Nick made a frustrated sound. "I don't know what I'm trying to say here."

"You want my advice, I say sweep the lady off her feet. Wine and dine her, bring her flowers, take her on a picnic." Monroe hesitated, thinking of his picnic date with Rosalee. "Just make sure you wear good running shoes on that last one though. You never know when you'll need to run for your life."

"I just wish things were the way they used to be," complained Nick. "I don't want to lose her, Monroe."

"Then don't," said Monroe simply. "Fight for her. Do whatever it takes."

"You're right," said Nick, his voice getting stronger. "I can do this."

Monroe cheered him on. "Of course you can get the girl. You're a complete hottie, dude." There was a long silence after that statement where Monroe cringed internally. "Did I just say that aloud?"

"Not if we both decide you didn't," was Nick's solution.

"Good call." The elevator doors opened. "And on that awkward note, I have to go."

"Okay, thanks for listening."

"Thanks for ignoring me calling you a hottie."

"The more times you mention it, the harder it is to repress it."

"Sure, sure," said Monroe hastily. "Talk to you later."

"Later."

They hung up and Monroe quickly put away his phone as he approached Lorelai's door. He knoc kedand then continued on in. "I'm back," he announced.

John didn't look like he'd been enjoying his time alone with Lorelai. He was still sitting on the sofa, a hard expression on his face.

Monroe held up the matches and attempted to break the tension. "Did someone order matches?"

It didn't appear to be working.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N****: Hey guys, thanks for tuning in for the next chapter. :D **

**And a big thank you to Anni and D Squirrel for commenting. Much appreciated. And no, I've never written a POTC fan fic, Anni, so not me, sorry. LOL But thank you for your lovely comment. Hope the author finishes it one day for you. :)**

**Okay, so, I said this was the last chapter, but again, I lied. One more chapter after this and it'll all be set up for the sequel. **

**Hope all of this makes sense. I've got a (hopefully) interesting s/l arc being set up in this chapter, investigating the line between obsession and love and how closely they run together, touching at times. **

**Hope you like...**

**Chapter Four**

"This way."

Renard followed Lorelai into the kitchen, with Monroe bringing up the rear. She walked over to a drawer and pulled out a knife and a little glass bottle with a dropper in the top, and then turned to face him. "I need a sample of blood to test." She walked up to him. "Give me your hand."

Renard held out his right hand

Lorelai shook her head. "I need the hand the blood flows through your heart first. Other one."

Renard swapped, giving her his left hand.

Lorelai wrapped her fingers around his hand to steady it. "Hold still, I don't want to open an artery." She ran the knife over the top of his finger.

The cut was a deep one but Renard showed no pain. He'd endure far worse in his past.

Lorelai quickly caught the blood into the vial.

"And this is going to tell us how big a hold the spell has over him?" Monroe quizzed, looking on with interest.

"All spells are distinctive, no matter how closely you follow a recipe," explained Lorelai, still letting the blood flow into the little bottle. "It depends on the person receiving it, the way it binds to them. Different people bind different spells in their own special way. That's one of the reason these kinds of things are so dangerous. You can never quite be sure of the result and how it'll truly affect someone. The more-" she looked up at Renard then, evidently choosing her words carefully, "unique the person is, the more unique the eventual outcome." Lorelai wiped his finger on the top of the vial and inclined her head towards the kitchen bench. "There is some paper towel on the bench."

Renard walked over and tore himself a piece off, pressing it around his still bleeding finger. "Is this going to take long?" He dabbed at his finger. "I need to get back to work."

Lorelai had put his vial of blood on the bench and was reaching into her cupboard. She drew out a similar looking vial. "The test won't take long at all." She held up the bottle. "But first we'll do a quick calibration. This is the blood of the cat guy."

"What cat guy?" asked Monroe innocently.

"You don't want to know," said Renard flatly.

"Oh, okay."

Lorelai lit one of the burners of the gas cooker with the matches Monroe had bought. She then took out the dropper from the cat guy's vial of blood and held it over the dancing flame. Monroe moved closer, wanting to get a good view. Lorelai let a single drop of blood fall into the gas flame. Immediately the fire flared up to about the size of basket ball, before quickly dying down.

"Whoa," said Monroe, looking impressed, "looks like cat guy had a bad dose of it."

"You could say that," said Lorelai. "He ended up killing seven people, including the woman he was in love with."

"Dude," said Monroe unevenly, "not a happy ending to that story, huh?"

"Not even a little bit. He's currently in a mental institution, pulling out his own toenails and eating them."

That wasn't music to Renard's ears. "So, not one of your success stories then?" he asked in annoyance.

"Hey, I did my best, but he didn't want to listen to my advice. I gave him something to take for the obsessive behaviour but he didn't use it. I can only do so much."

"You were able to make him up a cure?" asked Renard quickly.

"That guy, yes," said Lorelai. "We'll have to see what the chance of doing the same with you is."

She put down cat guy's blood and picked up Renard's blood. Monroe moved in even closer, intent on watching carefully. Lorelai drew out the dropper and let a single drop of Renard's blood fall into the flame. Immediately the entire room lit up as a huge explosion of a flame burst out. The flame was so big it hit the roof and fanned out, liquid blue ripples decorating the ceiling. Lorelai gasped and jumped back, as Renard took a quick step back as well. Monroe seemed frozen by what had happened when, as quickly as it had happened, the flame was gone. The intense heat had burnt itself out before any real damage could be done.

Monroe straightened up and looked to be in shock. "Dude!" he exclaimed unevenly. "You're Hiroshima!" He gingerly touched his forehead. "Do I still have eyebrows?"

"You're fine, honey," Lorelai reassured him. She too looked a bit stunned as she looked up at her kitchen ceiling. Dark streaks of fire residue marked the once white paint. "Well," she said shakily, "guess it was time for a new coat of paint anyway."

Monroe was still reeling. "Dude," he said in excitement, "did you see that? That was amazing!" He must have suddenly realised what it meant though. "Man, you're so boned."

Renard's lips tightened. "If you don't mind, I'd rather hear that from the professional here."

Lorelai was still looking up at her ceiling. "Boned," she confirmed distractedly.

Renard made a frustrated noise. "Well, this was a huge waste of time," he said in annoyance. "I guess I'll see myself out."

Lorelai dragged her eyes from the ceiling and looked at him. "Wait a minute, I didn't say I couldn't do anything."

A sliver of hope cut through Renard but he was cautious. "You didn't seem so sure a moment ago."

"I just meant there won't be any kind of potion or poultice which is going to fix this." She screwed the lid back on the vial of blood and placed it on the kitchen sink.

Renard took a step closer, giving her a sharp look. "But there is something?"

Lorelai turned around and leaned back against the kitchen sink, looking thoughtful. "Let me just do a quick consult." She tilted her head and seemed to be listening intently. After a minute Lorelai made an exasperated noise. "One at a time, you're all talking over the top of each other." She looked at Renard. "Your case has generated a lot of interest in the other world, everyone wants to put their two cents in."

"I'm so happy to be such a source of entertainment," said Renard flatly, his sarcasm obvious. He'd spent a great deal of time and effort flying under the radar in the past. Knowing he was the centre of so much attention, even if that attention was dead, didn't please him. Renard knew his Juliette fixation made him vulnerable and the fewer people, dead or alive, who knew about it, the better.

"Yes, yes, I know, I was there for the fire ball," said Lorelai impatiently. "I know how deep this runs." She pursed her lips. "Well, there is that, but that introduces even more randomness into the situation." Lorelai sighed. "Yes, I understand your point, thank you." She listened some more. "Alright, so, we're in agreement then?"

Monroe was still dabbing at his face while this one-sided discussion was going on. He wiggled his nose. "I think all my nose hairs were incinerated," he complained. Monroe looked Renard over. "Dude, you really pissed someone off."

"I'm not unaware of that," he replied tersely.

"Still, it could be worse," said Monroe, obviously trying to help.

"How?" Renard bit out.

Monroe looked to be floundering now. "Um, okay, give me a minute." He scratched his cheek. "Umm, let's see, I knew this guy who got cursed by an ex-girlfriend and things just started dropping off his body." Monroe shuddered. "Man, that was nasty. You don't realise how many things you have sticking out of your body until they start sloughing off in the shower."

"Okay," said Lorelai abruptly, "we have a consensus."

"Thank God," said Renard, not really wanting to hear how that story of Monroe's ended.

Lorelai tapped a finger against her cheek thoughtfully. "You have three options open to you."

"Three," said Monroe brightly, "that's pretty good."

"Balance often comes down to simple mathematics," Lorelai noted. "First, there is subtraction."

Renard frowned. "Meaning?"

"Meaning, if there is no object of your desire, you cannot desire her," explained Lorelai. "Kill the woman."

"This all started because-", Renard bit off the rest of his reply, conscious of Monroe standing there. Also the thought of something happening to Juliette caused a horror deep inside of him. Renard knew in that moment he'd walk across broken glass to protect her. "That's not an option," he said tersely. "What's the second option?"

She gave a little shrug. "Kill yourself."

He glowered at her. "I'm not really feeling that one either," he said sarcastically.

"It was a long shot," Lorelai agreed.

"So, what's the third option?" asked Monroe.

"Addition," she said simply. "This spell was a revenge spell cast out of hatred. The opposite of hate is love. You have to get the woman in question to fall in love with you." Lorelai paused and gave him a pointed look. "The _real_ you. Love of a woman will cancel out the hate of another one."

Renard blinked. "I don't understand."

"Right now, the spell is pulling you both closer together-"

"She is feeling this too?" he asked in surprise.

"La folie à deux," commented Lorelai knowingly.

_A madness shared by two. _

Renard swallowed hard, not sure what to do with this newest information. The thought that Juliette was longing for him the way he was aching for her caused his stomach to turn over nervously. Renard stuck his hand in his coat pocket again, running his fingers over her earring. His heart rate increased, imagining her thinking about him right then. Had she imagined him the way he'd seen her in his mind's eye? Was Juliette longing for his touch, the sound of her name on his lips the way he was with her?

Lorelai was clicking her fingers at him again. "Testing, one, two, three, testing."

Renard quickly let go of the earring and withdrew his hand from his pocket. He scowled down at her. "I'm listening." He moved his shoulders restlessly. "If what you're saying is true and she's effected by this spell-" Renard swallowed hard. "Then isn't the being in love bit a moot point? The spell is making us fall in love."

"It's making you obsessed with another," Lorelai corrected him. "Obsession isn't love, although, the two can overlap sometimes."

"Okay, so if John here can get this woman to fall in love with him, and not just obsess over him, then what, they're both cured?" asked Monroe slowly.

"Love defeats hate, balance is restored," agreed Lorelai. She looked at Renard. "You'll no longer be obsessed by this woman."

"And we'll both be free of this fixation?" asked Renard.

"Well, she'll be in love with you, which is a bit unfortunate, but breaking this spell was always going to cost someone something." Lorelai saw his hesitation. "Don't tell me you've never broken a woman's heart before?"

Renard ran his hand through his hair distractedly, not answering her. He'd never spent any time thinking about the women in his life and caring about their hearts. This was all new territory to him. "How am I meant to know what is love and what is obsession?" he asked in frustration. "Our emotions are being manipulated, how can either one of us know what is real and what isn't?"

Lorelai nodded sympathetically. "It's a tough one, alright. I didn't say this was going to be easy."

"There has to be another way," said Renard urgently. "What you're asking is impossible."

"It's not impossible," she protested, "just incredibly, incredibly unlikely."

"But others have managed to do it?" he quizzed her.

Lorelai laughed. "Oh, heavens, no. I told you, you and this spell are unique, your solution has to be as well."

Renard shook his head stubbornly. "There has to be some kind of magical solution to all of this."

Monroe interrupted. "Love is magical."

Renard gave him a hard look.

"I grew up watching a lot of Disney," Monroe admitted, looking a little abashed.

"I'm sorry," Lorelai apologised, "but those three options are your only hope."

Renard looked away in frustration, knowing this had been a waste of his time. "Fine," he said stiffly, "thank you for your time, Lorelai. What do I owe you?"

"It's on the house," she told him. "You've got other things to worry about." Lorelai walked up to him, a serious expression on her face. "Just know this. You have to get this under control, one way or the other. This kind of dark magic, well, it has a way of infecting everything around it. The woman who cast this spell has opened a Pandora's box of pain and suffering and it won't be limited to you and the object of your desire. The ripples of this are going to have far reaching consequences and there is nothing that can be done about that now. The only thing that is to be decided is what those consequences are going to be."

Renard knew the woman was only trying to help him, but he had enough ominous warnings for one day. "Thank you," he said again, curtly. "I'll find my own way out." Renard turned on his heel, longs legs carrying him to the front door and along the corridor. Behind him he could hear Monroe chasing after him.

"Hey, man, wait up!"

Renard didn't slow his steps, face set in stone as he realised just how deeply his trouble really ran.

_This was not good._


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N****: Okay, next chappy is up. :D **

**First of all thank you to all my lovely comment-leavers: D Squirrel, Wolvie and the guests. You're all too fab for words. :D And I'm deeply honoured by the two guests (I'm assuming it's two different people ;) ) who said that this fic was the first fic they'd ever commented on in FF. I'm very humbled and delighted to hear that. I truly hope this fic and its sequel ends up being worth your time. **

**So, was a little worried about this chapter. I had to get a lot of conceptual things in and I guess it's up to you guys to tell me how I did. I've decided that this fic still needs one more chapter, but it'll be by way of a prologue for the sequel to this fic. Hopefully it'll whet your interest if you see get a hint of how I'm going to play this out. The sequel is going to be called 'Desperate Measures'... or 'Calls for Desperate Measures', I haven't decided which yet. **

**Okay, so on with the show. This is quite a long chapter for me, so I hope I can hold your interest. **

**The prologue/epilogue isn't too far away hopefully, I'm about to do some research for it now. **

**Thanks for reading. **

**Chapter Five**

Renard stalked out of Lorelai's apartment building and came to an abrupt halt as the bright Portland midday sun had him blinking. He turned and slowly headed back to his car, but he'd only taken a few steps when the hopelessness of the situation overtook him. Renard stopped by the brick wall of a nearby building and leant back heavily against it. He bent over, hands on knees and attempted to collect himself. Renard squeezed his eyes together and drew in a shaky breath. He hated being this out of control. His entire life he'd fought against unruly emotions and won. Now he was completely at their mercy.

"Guess that wasn't what you were hoping for, huh?"

The Blutbad's sympathetic voice was the last thing Renard wanted to hear. Pity from a Wesen, this only continued to get worse. He didn't open his eyes. "Not exactly, no," he ground out. Renard opened his eyes and took his hands off his knees but continued to lean back against the building. People bustled by on the busy street, barely even glancing at them as Monroe settled in next to him, also leaning on the building. The two men stared ahead while talking to one another.

"But it doesn't have to be all bad," reasoned Monroe. "Is it really so out of the question to get this woman to fall in love with you?"

"I have no idea how you'd even go about such a thing," said Renard tightly.

"You've never had a girlfriend?" asked Monroe in surprise.

"I've seduced a lot of women and enjoyed their company and what they could do for me."

"Oh sure," said Monroe, feigning casualness, "who hasn't? I mean, you may not know this to look at me, but I'm a total chick magnet. It's that animal magnetism thing. Back in the day I was beating them off with a stick." He continued on hastily. "Not an actual stick, you understand, a figurative one. I don't beat women with sticks." Monroe looked suddenly thoughtful. "Although there was this one woman I had to use a broom against, but in my defence, she was coming at me with a blow torch." He wrinkled his nose. "Carmella had a pretty rough version of foreplay."

"A broom against a blow torch?" Renard challenged him. "How did that work out for you?"

"We burnt down the hotel we were staying in." Monroe sighed. "I still feel pretty bad about that."

Renard shook his head. "Tell me again why I'm taking romantic advice from you?"

"Sheer desperation?"

Renard's shoulders sagged. Monroe was right, he was beyond desperate. He stuck his hand inside his pocket again and felt for Juliette's earring. This time it didn't sooth him though, it just reminded him that it'd been too long since he'd last seen her. Renard's face clouded over. This obsession was eating him up from the inside out. "In answer to your question I've never had the kind of girlfriend where I cared what happened to them."

"Okay, clean slate, not necessarily a bad thing." Monroe scratched his cheek and looked to be thinking. "Let's see, what's the lady in question's name?"

Renard stiffened, a strange surge of jealousy going through him. He didn't want this other man having Juliette's name on his lips. It made no kind of sense at all, but Renard was forced to stop himself from physically hurting Monroe at even suggesting he could speak Juliette's name.

Monroe obviously saw the look of violence on his face because he hastily retracted. "Or not, I don't need to know her name, unclench, dude."

Renard blew out a shaky breath and made his muscles uncoil. Damn, how much worse could this get? He was afraid to answer his own question as he tried to quell his irrational jealousy.

"Okay, you're clearly having a problem with the name thing." Monroe gave him a bright smile. "No problem, we'll just use a safe word when talking about her, which isn't going to make you go crazy. How does that sound?"

Renard frowned. "Safe word?"

"Yeah, like… umm…" Monroe looked around and spied the fruit and vegetable shop across the road. "Like pumpkin, we'll just say pumpkin instead of her name." He nodded, happy with himself. "So, you and the pumpkin, have you known each other for long?"

Renard's eyes narrowed at Monroe's unorthodox trouble shooting skills.

Monroe looked hesitant. "Is it not working?"

"Yes," admitted Renard slowly, "it's working."

Monroe looked pleased with himself. "See, this is totally doable, man. One speed bump at a time." He nudged him. "You and the pumpkin, do you know her well?"

Renard rubbed his face, suddenly tired. "I barely know her at all. We've spoken a few times before this happened and now, all of a sudden I've-"

"Got pumpkin fever," finished off Monroe knowingly. "I know, man, it's rough."

"And only going to get rougher if I can't get this under control," said Renard harshly.

"I think control might be off the table," observed Monroe. "Maybe the best you can do is direct all these emotions into a positive place."

Renard looked at him blankly.

"The love thing," Monroe pushed him. "You know, give that a shot. The pumpkin, is she good looking?"

Renard's hands curled into a ball as he thought of Juliette. "Gorgeous," he rasped. He shook his head. "But it's complicated."

"She's got a horrible laugh?" guessed Monroe, looking compassionate. "Flosses in public? Says 'y'ello' when answering the phone?" He sucked in a horrified breath. "Oh God, man, she doesn't have an outie, does she?"

Renard gave him an annoyed look. "What?"

"An outie." He pointed to his stomach. "You know, her belly button sticks out." Monroe shuddered and had a wild look in his eyes. "Man, those outies freak me right out."

"Are you done?" Renard asked in irritation. He made a vexed noise. "I meant that it's complicated because there is another man."

Monroe's eyebrows shot up. "Ohh, I see. Husband?"

"No."

"That's something."

"They live together." Renard rubbed the back of his neck, thinking back at all of Nick's strained behaviour of late. "But I think there are problems." He moved his shoulders. "I know there are problems. She doesn't love him anymore."

Monroe pulled a face. "Ouch for that guy, but yay for team Smith." He flicked a finger back and forth between them. "That's us, by the way."

"I assumed," said Renard flatly and then gave him a suspicious look. "Why are you helping me? What's in it for you?"

Monroe just shrugged. "I guess I'm a romantic at heart. I like to see love triumph."

"But that's the point," Renard bit out, "this isn't love, it's obsession. It's desire and lust and-" he closed his eyes in fresh despair, "loss of control. This isn't love."

"Okay, but what is love in the beginning?" Monroe philosophised. "It's chemistry, right? I mean, you met someone and you can't love them because you don't know them. But that first spark, those fireworks when that person gets under your skin, that's all chemistry, man and you and the pumpkin have it in spades." He touched his eyebrows. "And I have the singed brows to prove it." Monroe pointed back at Lorelai's apartment. "It was like the freakin' fourth of July back there. You and the pumpkin are leaking chemistry all over the place."

"But it isn't real," said Renard in frustration. "All that chemistry came from a spell."

"You heard Lorelai. She said every spell was different. There is something about the way that spell bound to you, something specific to you and the pumpkin, that made it more than it was intended."

"That spell was always meant for evil," said Renard darkly.

"Yeah, but beautiful things can come out of ugly things," reasoned Monroe. "How else do you explain Liv Tyler?"

"It doesn't matter anyway," said Renard tersely. "We're still just talking chemistry and attraction here, it's not love."

"It's a starting point," insisted Monroe stubbornly. "Look, my great grandfather, on my mother's side, Fredric, he's a perfect example. One day he stole this girl, Helga, from the local village and he was going to eat her. The problem was, she was so beautiful, he couldn't bring himself to, you know, rip her to shreds. He locked Helga in a room in his house instead."

"And Disney never made a movie out of this story?" asked Renard sarcastically. "That's surprising to me."

Monroe ignored him. "Every day he'd tell her he was going to eat her the next day and then, the next day would come and Fredric couldn't do it. The weeks went by and he kept the girl as a prisoner, threatening to eat her every day, but in between that they ended up talking. Helga was different from anyone he'd ever known before. She wasn't afraid of him, and spoke her mind and made him laugh. No one had ever made him laugh before, they'd always run from him in terror. One day, my great grandfather left the door to the Helga's room unlocked on purpose, knowing that he couldn't keep her as a prisoner any longer. He went out deep into the forest and just kept walking. He was gone three days, knowing the girl would be gone when he got back and not wanting to return to the emptiness of what had become a home to him. Fredric had done the right thing for the first time in his life and it had cost him the only joy he'd ever known."

Renard filled in the blanks. "But she didn't leave, Helga was there when he got back."

Monroe smiled. "She was making them dinner and they were never apart again after that day. You know what I'm saying here, right?"

"Yes," said Renard flatly, "the woman was suffering from Stockholm's Syndrome, where you develop feelings for your abuser."

Monroe rolled his eyes. "Way to ruin the buzz of a romantic story, man," he grumbled. "No, my great grandmother wasn't suffering from Stockholm's Syndrome. Helga chose him, when she had options, she still chose Fredric, knowing all of his flaws and weaknesses and potential hardships which lay ahead. They went on to have nine children together and lived a long and happy life together." Monroe pursed his lips. "Although, now that I think about it, there was that one incident where Fredric ate Helga's father in a case of mistaken identity." He shrugged. "But every relationship is going to have the occasional hiccup." Monroe fixed him with an optimistic look. "My point is, Fredric and Helga started up in one place and ended up in another. The start of a relationship isn't nearly as important as what happens next. So, you're starting because of a spell, big deal. What counts is what comes next."

Renard just stared at him.

"What's wrong?"

"I don't know how, but that actually made some kind of sense to me," admitted Renard reluctantly.

Monroe grinned. "You see, light at the end of the tunnel, man."

"Maybe," said Renard wryly, "but why do I get this sinking feeling that light is attached to a train."

"You're a glass empty kinda guy, aren't you?"

"I'm a realist, I deal in the here and now."

"Okay, in that case, the here and now of it is that we've got a good looking pumpkin who isn't in love with anyone right now and you've got the tall, dark and handsome thing going on. This should be like shooting fish in a barrel."

Renard frowned. "Did you just call me tall, dark and handsome?"

Monroe sighed. "I did. All of a sudden, I'm telling guys how hot they are today. What's up with that?"

Renard arched an eyebrow. "I don't think I want to know the answer to that."

"Ditto."

"Look, I have no experience with getting a woman to fall in love with me," said Renard in frustration. "It's never come up before."

"Get to know her, let her get to know you. Give the pumpkin a chance to see beyond the spell into the real man."

Renard rubbed his cheek absently, thinking of the hexenbiest lurking below the surface. "That's not a good idea," he muttered. "She wouldn't want the real me."

"Women can surprise you. They call them the weaker sex, but they seem able to carry a lot more of a load than a guy if you ask me, especially when it comes to matters of the heart. Take a chance, woo the pumpkin." Monroe shook his head. "Man, I'm giving this speech a lot today."

Renard glanced at him. "What do you mean?"

He shook his head and waved his hand. "Nothing, it's an unrelated issue. I'm just saying at this point, you have nothing to lose. It's either that or developing a taste for your own toenails, man. This thing is going to drive you crazy anyway, you might as well go down swinging."

Renard blew out a long breath, and pushed himself away from the wall. "I have to go." He turned to Monroe, a little uncomfortable. "Thank you for your help," he said stiffly. Renard wasn't used to being indebted to anyone. It didn't sit well with him. "I appreciate all you've tried to do for me."

"Hey, it's nothing I wouldn't have done for some other random stranger under an obsession spell who walks into the shop I'm looking after for a friend," said Monroe blithely.

Renard looked at Monroe askew, still not quite having worked him out. "You know, for a Blutbad, you're not what I expected."

"You sound like my father after I told him I was going vegan," noted Monroe wryly.

"You should consider going into counselling," offered up Renard.

"Now you sound like my mother," replied Monroe in resignation, "but she was picturing me as the one getting the counselling rather than the other way round." He gave a resigned shrug. "Family, what are you gonna do, right?"

"Yes," said Renard shortly, thinking of his own familial issues.

"Good luck with it all," offered up Monroe. "If you think I can help you and the pumpkin at all, you know where to find me."

Renard inclined his head and then Monroe was heading off down the street, making his way back to his car. Renard walked more slowly to his car, not as convinced about this 'cure' as the other man seemed to be. His entire life he'd been taught love was a weakness. The only use he'd been trained to have for love is how to use it to his advantage, to take what he wanted. Renard knew that wouldn't work when it came to Juliette, so basically he had nothing to offer her. The idea of her actually loving him for his real self was a laughable one. His stride quickened as he became more determined. No, the only thing for this was to grit his teeth and find his own way through this. He'd always managed to overcome every obstacle thrown at him in his life, this was no different. Renard stopped by his car, a surge of rebelliousness coming over him. He pulled out Juliette's earring and threw it into the nearby bushes in an act of defiance and then climbed into his car, slamming the door shut behind him. That bitch Adalind and her spells weren't going to get the best of him. He was Sean Renard and that name caused fear in the hearts of many. One bitter woman wasn't going to take that from him.

Renard gripped the steering wheel so tightly the blood left his knuckles. All he had to do was put the key in the ignition and drive away. It'd be the first step in sheer force of will overcoming this. Sweat beaded on his forehead and veins popped on his neck as the battle raged within. Renard stared ahead, fighting with every ounce of strength he had inside of him to make that next move. The steering wheel shook with the force of his emotions. The seconds ticked by and still he was unable to do that one simple thing. Finally Renard made a guttural sound, knowing the battle was lost. He hit out at the steering wheel in his rage filled frustration and then was scrambling out of the car. Renard began a frantic search for Juliette's earring, needing desperately to be in possession of it again. He was the junkie searching for his stash. Renard dug around in the bushes on his hands and knees, not caring about the strange looks he was garnering from passer bys. All that mattered was finding that earring. It was as necessary as his next breath in that moment. His hands dug through the dirt and mulch, pushing past the foliage of the thick bushes. The shaking was getting worse, he was a man cut off from the thing which now anchored him to the earth and the panic was setting in.

The touch of something small and hard against his hand had him emitting a choked sound of relief. Renard picked it out of the ground and pulled back his hand, desperate eyes needing to confirm he'd found the treasured item. Juliette's diamond earring sparkled up at him from his palm through the bits of dirt clinging to it. He hastily wiped the earring against his coat, cleaning it off. Safely in his possession again, Renard closed his fingers around his precious link to Juliette as he rose shakily to his feet. He walked swiftly to the car, brushing the dirt from his knees and coat as he did. Climbing inside, he let out the breath he didn't realise he'd been holding in a loud hiss. Renard caught a glimpse of his reflection in the rear vision mirror and barely recognised the wild-eyed man staring back at him. His heart raced, blood pulsing through his veins, as the awful realisation that he was already in way too deep, hit home. The obsession had a hold of him, it had sunk into his bones and walking away was no kind of option. Some part of Renard knew it never had been. He uncurled his hand and looked down at Juliette's earring in the palm of his hand. He'd held onto it so tightly, the thing had cut into his flesh and now lay in a pool of his own blood.

Renard stared at his bloody palm, and for the first time in his life, knew real terror.

I must get my soul back from you;

I am killing my flesh without it."

_Sylvia Plath_

_The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath_

**A/N****: I'm excited to explore this line between obsession and love, so I hope you'll all join me for the journey. See you in the next chapter (hopefully). :D **


	6. EpiloguePrologue

**A/N****: And here we have the last part of this story, which is actually the prologue for the sequel to this story – Desperate Measures. **

**Thank you to my reviewers as always – Anni, glad you got to read two chapters at one. :) And welcome ForestPebbles, I can't tell you how much I enjoyed reading your thoughts on all of this. I'm an overanalyser myself, which is why I always gravitate towards these complicated, twisty dark tales. I like things that aren't simple and easily defined. **

**Excuse me while I wax lyrical on the subject and give my thoughts about your post, FP. ;) **

**You're so right in saying that what is going on with Renard right now is dangerous with aspects of criminality. Adalind has been very crafty with this spell because she's basically screwed Renard, Nick and Juliette with it. Juliette was the truly innocent victim, and Nick and Renard have varying degrees of indirect culpability. If Nick had come clean with Juliette from the beginning, she wouldn't have been in such a vulnerable position with Adalind and Adalind wouldn't have found her such an easy victim. Nick only told Juliette the truth when he was forced to. Now, I'm not saying he was necessarily wrong in keeping things from her. I could see Nick's quandary, but ultimately, in trying to protect Juliette, he ended up putting her at greater risk. **

**So, essentially, one way of looking at it is that Nick did the wrong thing (keeping the truth from her) for the right reasons (protecting her). Let's contrast that with Renard, who did the right thing (undergoing the purifying spell to be able to wake Juliette) but for the wrong reasons (to keep control of Nick). Nick's actions ended up putting Juliette in a coma, Renard's brought her out of it. There is a lot of blurring of the lines here with motives and deeds and of course, consequences. The concept of right and wrong becomes greyer, absolutes waver. A lot of people will see things one way or the other, condemning and blessing actions depending on your particular mindset. People who love Nick and Juliette can easily condemn Renard as the bad guy, even though he's as much of a victim in this case as they are. If you prefer Renard and Juliette, then you focus more on him being a victim, and less on the events which led up to it. What interests me is all the greyness in between. **

**It's such a tangled web that is being weaved between these three characters. So, in answer to your question, FP, I do see a triangle of sorts between them in the next story. Triangles are always tricky because you don't want to be so heavily handed in biasing people to one side, so that it's not really a triangle at all, just two people and an interloper. But, you want to give people enough to hold onto so that whoever ends up with the girl, they'll agree the outcome was validated by the journey. It's a very fine balance and one I'm a little nervous about attempting, but if you don't challenge yourself as a writer, you never get any better. Even if the next story turns out to be a huge fail, I'll have learnt a whole lot from it. :D **

**You make a good point about the coins, FP. I think what unnerved Renard the most about the whole thing was loss of control. I'm intrigued about his past and what went on with his parents and his father's wife. I'm building a back story there in my own head, but I do feel like his past is a crucial justification of the man he is today. Yes, he's a bastard, but that's not all he is and that's the interesting thing for me. **

**I also agree that Juliette is the biggest victim in all of this. She's woken up with her life with Nick stolen from her and this obsession spell invading her body. It's a double whammy. Nick is just dealing with losing the girlfriend he knew, Renard is just dealing with the obsession spell, it's the woman who's had both forced on her, and all she did to deserve that fate was trust those around her (Nick, Adalind). It intrigues me that I read a fair amount of Juliette hate around the place – how could she do this to Nick etc etc. All I can think of is that actually, Nick did this to her in a roundabout way (it was his mum who got the ball rolling by killing Adalind's mum in the first place remember) and yet there doesn't seem to be much sympathy for her. That's why I'm looking forward to getting into her head space and seeing what is going on there in the next story. **

**And yes, my dear, weird Monroe. LOL He does have that odd perspective that only a Wesen trying to integrate into a human world could have. He can see things from both sides, which is why he's going to be such a fun character to use when I put him in the middle of Renard and Nick. Renard's comment about Stockholm Syndrome were right and pause for thought, but in a lot of ways, Monroe's response to it showed an understanding of the human (and Wesen condition). Sure, in the story books and movies, lovers end up together for valid and emotionally righteous reasons but in real life, it's rarely that neat and tidy. There is a reason why we end up loving the people we do and it's a product of many things, including all of the hurt and pain in our upbringing. Every relationship on earth has a hugely dysfunctional element to it IMO, because as human beings, we're all hugely dysfunctional. LOL People get together for all sorts of reasons, and end up managing to make their dysfunction work for them as a couple. I love that. I love that love for one couple doesn't fit another, that like a fingerprint, it's utterly unique for each of couple. It's easy to judge other relationships and compare them to our own, knowing they wouldn't meet our needs... but does that automatically invalidate the relationship? It's an interesting question to me. **

**Sorry, I've carried on too long, but two things will get me talking your ear off and that's human nature/relationships and writing... and when you combine the two... well, see above. . **

**I'll just let you read in peace now...**

**Prologue for the sequel**** - ****Desperate Measures**

Renard sat in his car, across the road from Juliette's house and stared at the pair of sunglasses on his dash. It was after seven and he'd taken the long way round to her house, not even sure if he was going to return them to her. When Juliette had left them at the coffee house, Renard had considered adding them to his collection. He still was. It was a safer option then returning them. Renard's eyelids drooped as he remembered their brief encounter, losing himself in the memory of being with Juliette.

**oooOOOOooo**

_He moved restlessly in his chair and glanced at his watch for what felt like the hundredth time in the past ten minutes. A face to face meeting was risky, for a lot of reasons. Then again, whatever he did, the risk was only going to escalate between them and it was better that he forge some kind of relationship with Juliette before she found him sleeping under her bed. Renard gave a humourless laugh at that, knowing it wasn't really funny because it could well happen. He hated being this out of control so much. His palm itched and he scratched it absently, noting the small mark Juliette's earring had left when he'd gripped it so hard the day before. It was probably going to leave a mark but one only he'd be able to see. Renard's expression darkened. It was like she'd unwittingly branded him. He looked at the tiny mark and saw the words 'Property of Juliette Silverton' embedded into his skin. The unfunny thing about it was that Juliette didn't even know and undoubtedly would not care to find out. _

_Renard ran his hand through his hair in an agitated fashion. How do you tell someone that they've become a part of you when it was without their permission or even knowledge? How much could he tell Juliette? How much should he tell her? No answers came to him as he stared down at the counter top, desperately trying to collect his thoughts before Juliette arrived. Renard knew thinking straight around her was going to be an issue. He blew out a strained breath and looked down into his coffee, attempting to calm his nerves. The door to the coffee house jangled and Renard looked up to see Juliette walking through the door. He smiled without realising it and quickly stood up, surreptitiously wiping his hands on his pants to hide their clamminess. "Hey." _

_Juliette took off her sunglasses as she walked towards him and smiled back. "Hey." She laid her sunglasses on the table in front of him. _

_Her smile dimpled her cheeks and Renard resisted the urge to kiss each one. Wildly inappropriate didn't even begin to cover it. He could feel the foolish smile on his lips but could do nothing about it. He felt like an awkward teenager on his first date. "So glad you could make it." Renard made a vague gesture towards the counter. "Ah, you want something to drink?" At least his voice didn't crack, that was something. _

"_Ahh, no, I'm okay." Juliette seems just as nervous but he wasn't sure if that was because she was reacting to his lack of ease or the pretence of this meeting. Probably both. She draped her coat on the back of her chair and shakes her head of long auburn hair. "Thank you." Juliette sat down and smiled at him. _

_He took his seat across from her and smiled back. For a moment he forgot why they were there and imagined they were a normal couple having a normal get together. A part of his brain registered that none of those words in that sentence could be applied to this situation. Renard supposed that was a good thing that he could still recognise that fact. It was a small mercy. _

"_So, you wanted to talk about Nick?" _

_The mention of the other man's name was jarring. "Yeh, and ah," he tries to be get his mouth to work, "well, you."_

_Juliette gave him a surprised look at that remark. _

_Renard looked down, finding it hard to concentrate with those blue eyes on him. A question had been burning a hole in his brain. "Ah, do you remember anything at all about the night you woke up?" He snuck a look at her. Did she remember the kiss which brought this plague down upon both of their heads? Was there some way her unconscious psyche could have known it was him saving her from that dreamless sleep? _

_Juliette looked had a faraway look of quiet sadness on her face from his question. "No. I vaguely remember feeling this surge, like waking up from a deep sleep or something." _

_Renard smiled to hide his disappointment and looked down again. "Umm," he swallowed and scratched his face, uncertain how to broach the subject. Renard tried a sideways approach. "Being a detective is very demanding and ah-" he trailed off, glancing to one side and then gave a nervous laugh an smile, shaking his head at how lame that attempt was. "I'm sure I'm not telling you anything you don't know already." Renard looked down yet again. He normally liked to look people directly in the eye, get a measure of who they were. It was a technique he'd found useful in mastering any situation. You held their eye until the other person was forced to look away first. People usually found sustained eye contact too confronting. Renard had always relished it. Until now. Now he was fearful of what Juliette might see in his eyes when she looked at him. Renard tried to get this conversation back on track in his head. "But, ah, lately, Nick has been pretty distracted." _

_Juliette looks pensive at this news. "Because of me?" _

"_Well, he's deeply concerned about you and I just thought that perhaps I could-" His eyes slide off her, "reach out and ah," he shook his head, "help you both, if I can."_

_Juliette smiled at that. "That's really sweet of you." A look of shyness came across her face and she looked to be choosing her words carefully. "I really appreciate you taking the time." A heavy sigh passed her lips and now Juliette was looking away. "It's just, umm-"_

_Renard leant forward, his expression earnest. "You can tell me." _

_Juliette looked off to one side, not meeting his gaze. "I feel so bad saying this-" she blew out a long breath and gave a confused smile. "He's a complete stranger to me and I'm not to him and he knows everything about me and I'm just starting over with you-"_

_Renard's heart skipped a beat, his eyes shooting up to meet hers at the telling slip, eyes piercing hers. _

"_Him," Juliette quickly corrected herself, "him." She refused to meet his gaze. "Sorry, I'm just starting over with him." _

_Renard couldn't take his eyes off her. The Soldul-Deținător had been right. Juliette was being affected by Adalind's spell as well. The confirmation overwhelmed him, possibilities crowding his mind. Renard saw Juliette's distress and hesitantly reached out his hand to touch hers. Their eyes locked and what was only probably a split second, felt like they'd lived an entire lifetime in that fraction of time. "What happened to you is not your fault," he said earnestly, voice low and intense. _

_Juliette moves her hand away and looked shaken up. She gave a strained smile. "I actually really have to get going." Before Renard could protest Juliette was standing up and hurrying out of the coffee shop. Renard stayed where he was, hand still outstretched. He blinked a couple of times, shaken by their encounter. He stifled the urge to go after her, not sure his legs could carry him right then anyway. Renard's blank gaze settled on the sunglasses Juliette had left behind. He picked them up, lost in his thoughts. _

**oooOOOOooo**

An oncoming car's headlights pulled Renard from his memories and he blinked in their glare. He looked back at the glasses and picked them up, turning them over in his hands. Renard glanced over at the house, knowing Juliette was home because the lights were on. This was undoubtedly a bad idea, mainly because he didn't know what was going to happen. Renard prided himself about his ability to read any given situation and predict the outcome. It'd saved his life on more than one occasion. With Juliette though, everything was random, he couldn't get a fix on her or his own wayward emotions. His heart beat a little faster as he remembered Juliette's misstep in referencing him instead of Nick. To know that Juliette was feeling the effects of this brought up hugely ambivalent emotions in him. On the one hand, he felt like he now had to rein in both of their emotions. Juliette was innocent in all of this, she didn't know what was going on, only that she was starting to lose control of her emotions around him. Renard did know what was going on, so he felt the burden of that knowledge for both of them. But then, there was this other part of him, that part which was growing every day, which only cared that he was under her skin the way she was under his. The two parts of him raged a war deep inside.

Without even having made a conscious decision, Renard found himself out of the car and crossing the street to Juliette's house. He walked up the few stairs to her front door. Renard's stomach turned over nervously at the thought of seeing Juliette again. Strong emotion flooded his body and he fought to subdue it. The porch light flickered as he knocked on her door with the back of his hand and cast a distracted eye at the malfunctioning bulb. Renard could see through the glass inlay at the top of the door to watch Juliette coming to answer the door. The light flickered again and then remained on. Juliette opened the door, not realising she was letting in a world of possibilities for both of them. Monroe's words about it not being how something starts, but what happens next came back to him. Renard had no idea what was going to come next, he only knew that this, whatever it was, was happening.

Renard smiled at seeing her. "Hi," he said huskily.

And so it began...

"I have little left in myself - I must have you.

The world may laugh,

may call me absurd, selfish

but it does not signify.

My very soul demands you:

it will be satisfied,

or it will take deadly vengeance on its frame."

_Charlotte Brontë_

_Jane Eyre_

**A/N****: So, is there much interest out there from folks to see where this is all going to go? This is probably going to be quite a complex piece to write, so, if no one is feeling it, I'll probably back burner it. Let me know one way or the other and thanks for reading, guys. :D **


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